


Black Lily

by saintofnosleep



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, One Shot, Past Relationship(s), Scion Hanzo Shimada, Talon Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 16:16:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17511839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintofnosleep/pseuds/saintofnosleep
Summary: Widowmaker is sent to kill Hanzo Shimada. However there are things happening behind the scenes of Japan that are completely out of the Talon sniper's control.





	Black Lily

I

 

Widowmaker's breath created clouds of air around her face on the cold rooftop.  
Talon's order had been given, the black digital name imprinted in the back of her mind from the large company screen.

The target's name, Hanzo Shimada.  
She let out another breath which billowed more warm air around her eventually disappearing into the inky night sky. 

In the backdrop of where she sat in wait;  
the neon lights of Tokyo burned, semi illuminating the city streets below. 

A tinge of nostalgia passed through her at the thought of where their paths had first crossed:  
A late evening meeting, a dim restaurant, an empty rooftop, hushed words being lost in the encroaching darkness all around them.

She began scanning the street below through the zoomed in crosshair, to where the neon sign hung over the casino entrance.  
Talon had given his whereabouts all that needed to be done was fire a single clean shot. 

In Widowmaker's sightline women stood outside their polished cars, reflections of light dropped in pools upon the metal surfaces.  
The women walked from them with as much grace as their high heels allowed, fine dresses emboldened with jewels hung off their stiffening backs in the cold.  
The men courted their items inside; they themselves battle clad for the night of drinking and gambling in sharply tailored suits. 

The snipers heart rate dropped to match the surrounding temperature.  
Meanwhile she leaned further into the scope, her finger brushing against the trigger in anticipation for the targets appearance. 

Remorse had become foreign to the widow, through years training with the constant injections of mind numbing drugs. 

Within the still moment, memory shards pulled her to another time. 

Ballerinas dressed in virgin white ruffled satin on points.  
The sunset view from the farm's field, stretching into the distance.  
Girard's body on the bed.  
Blood... Blood everywhere. 

 

The sudden change in the breeze made her readjust, turning to face Japan's new crime Lord. 

Their gazes became fixed on one another's;  
the hazel shade of his eyes clashed against her own yellow hues, his stare was one which always held a certain sadness. 

The sniper observed him, an engraved bow held at his side.  
On this occasion Hanzo wore a suit: his tie lazily hung around his neck, held in place by a pinstripe waistcoat.  
The suit shirts rolled up sleeves showcased the clan's tattoo, which was branded onto his arm. 

 

"Talon could have used a man with your ability."

She stood up rifle in hand with a sigh.

"You could have ruled."

"Talon lies, Amelie."

She paused angrily at the name.

"The last man to call me that was my husband." 

"I have warned you once before, my wager remains the same." 

The wager, his bow over her rifle?  
Baring her teeth at the thought. 

"You're a fool to believe it."

"Enough!" 

Hanzo pulled the bow taut, she rolled fast an arrow whistling past her head as she slid behind the vent. 

Returning from cover, the target had moved in the evenings increasing darkness.  
She maneuvered over the rooftop scoping her rifle. 

Silence rained down on the roof causing the elevation of her heart beat to drum in her ears.  
Blood coursed through her adrenaline filled system, all held beneath her cold blue exterior.

The voice from an old natural History documentary played within her mind;

"When on the hunt the Black widow's heartbeat quickens,  
and only then does she feel truly alive."

Sensing him near an elbow made quick work of his face;  
hearing the distinctive crack accompanied by the low intake of breath. 

Widowmaker drew her gun aloft but thin air greeted her;  
he had disappeared back into the night. 

 

Continuing along the roof the sniper began to turn on the helmets vision, a faint beep reaching her ears.  
Arrows cascaded down, one arrow hitting its mark imbedding itself in her side; forcing her to the ground.  
Gritting her teeth to stop a cry the familiar taste of blood filling her mouth, bitter and metallic. 

Looking through the visor her scope already trained on his head.  
The moment seemed to stretch as she focused.  
In the corner of her eye a metal object fell in almost slow motion above; she knew what it was, a grenade. 

Swearing under her breathe, she swerved her aim to meet it.  
The soft click, the crack of a bullet releasing, the deafening explosion; which pushed her further onto the ground and out of consciousness. 

Waking to white ash falling all around like snow, specks caught on her eyelashes and stuck to her bloodied face.  
Cautiously looking about not wanting to slip back into unconsciousness. 

A man slowly walked towards her, Widowmaker's vision moved in and out of focus:  
he wore a mask with wires that stuck out, where the man's eyes should have been a red hue glared, from the misty aftermath of the explosion.  
She heard the tread of his boots against the ground getting closer.

Arrows hit the man one by one, each shot made the man's movements more disoriented;  
until he disappeared from the building's roof, and completely removed from her line of vision. 

Moving fingers along to where the arrow jutted from, blood soaked her side, pooling beneath.  
Laying helplessly she recalled that the only reference to her own existence was a serial code, buried in some Bureaucrats document file.  
The scene flashed before her, the body of hers buried in an unmarked grave;  
For there would be no one to mourn beside a gravestone, for the death of the Widowmaker. 

Only now did she faintly see Hanzo standing above her, blood and burns covered his face continuing down his neck.  
The most dangerous opponent she had known, leaned down to look at her.  
She curses fate, eyelids falling in acceptance. 

A tap on the arrow shaft in her side made her writhe in agony, anger grew at her core.  
Extending an arm into a punch however her wrist slowly fell limp into the Archer's leather gloved grip. 

"Finish it!"

She spits blood towards him.

"You will not die on this night Widowmaker." 

He chuckled victoriously over her struggling on ground. 

"I had always wondered what colour it is you bleed...  
Just like us it seems." 

Warmth met the blue woman's skin, from arms wrapping around as dreamless sleep washed over her. 

 

II

 

Widowmaker dreamt of the figure walking towards her, becoming shrouded in smoke he disappeared.  
Moira's therapeutic voice began to whisper above her while straps tightly held her body taut.  
Needles were implanted deep into her skin sending each and every limb of hers to sleep.  
Once they reached her face two of the masked surgeons clamped her eyes open with chafing plastic gloves.  
Horror gurgled in her numb throat, the noise unable to reach a scream above the sound of the instruments clattering against metal surfaces.  
The operating tables light became increasingly blinding ending the nightmarish memory.

 

Waking to a white ceiling, the room had been built with traditional Japanese craftsmanship in mind.  
Her eyes flitted from the walls to the neatly furnished woodworks.  
Her vision coming to rest on the former mission. 

Hanzo sat beside holding a med pack to her wound.  
A large gash across the crook of his nose from her blow.  
His black kimono paired with trousers made him appear pale in the dim morning room. 

 

"Why help me." 

Sitting up in front of him she grabbed him under the chin.

"Why?!" 

"I do not want another loved ones death on my conscience." 

"No, you're just a coward."

He pulls her arm away from his face. 

"To call me that, you do not know what I really did to my brother on that day." 

"Then you're lucky that you can hide what you are behind your own reflection Hanzo Shimada, I can't."

Her hair had slipped from the usual ponytail, dark purple strands now fell at her shoulders.  
The sunken yellow eyes of hers looked out against her skins dark aquamarine tone. 

The two sat in silence, each others breath hot against their faces.  
A peace was found in their joint suffering. 

After awhile Hanzo walked to the other side of the Dojo-esque space. 

She joined him as he pulled the slider doors open to reveal a glass pane, through the screen was an overgrown garden.

It had been raining while she slept, rain had flooded the gardens water features.  
Dew rested on the windswept leaves while the weather had battered and drenched the jagged rocks, turning them a darker shade.  
The various streams of water crossed steadily pouring into the pond. 

At a side glance he spoke again. 

"You chose not to shoot when you had the chance, explain." 

"The thing that caused the explosion was created by the same doctor who made me.  
Betrayal, twofold."

"What you say is not lost on me,  
I remember leaving the Clan as if it were yesterday. "

His features were set darkly by the outside light, the thin lines along his face seemed as traceable as the scars that crossed them.  
With that same look, filled full with sadness and regret.  
Half of him belonged to the past, tormented by time that will never be returned. 

Her French accent made her words slide off her tongue. 

"You must choose,  
kill the past or let it kill you."

He gave no reply and continued looking through the window. 

She begins to walk away from the screen and the rising sunlight. 

"When word travels back that I am alive, they will come for you too, Archer.  
Talon doesn't take pity."

"I've fought many assassins, you are the only one I have not killed."

She stops for a moment their backs to one another. 

"After all this is over, we shall see who is better." 

"I look forward to it."

She picks up keys on the stand beside the door. 

"Goodbye, Hanzo." 

"Farewell."

"Don't know what to call me?" 

"I do not." 

(The door closes.) 

 

 

..................................................................................................................................

 

Epilogue

 

 

Hanzo ponders alone before the garden.  
Freshly dewdrop covered flowers dripped beneath his stare.

"Common varieties of women live in comfortable atmospheres made from the kindest intentions;  
yet they have not grown to be as sweet, 

A wild flower's essence tends to fade when forcibly cultivated.  
Though never yours Amelie,  
My Black Lily..."

**Author's Note:**

> When it comes to the plot of this fic I know, there really isn't much.  
> Originally I wanted to write a longer fanfiction which included more characters but I decided to cut it shorter into a slightly bitter sweet piece.  
> Soo originally the man with the visor was Soldier 76 who had been experimented on by Moira & Mercy to assassinate both Widowmaker and Hanzo. Because the mad lesbian scientists believed Widow wouldn't kill her old friend. 
> 
> I knoooow, don't ask why.
> 
>  
> 
> Here's some bits and pieces that don't fit/couldn't find a place for which I didn't want to delete from existence. 
> 
> ......................................
> 
>  
> 
> Talon took everything, broke me apart until nothing remained;  
> except an order, kill. 
> 
>  
> 
> .....................................
> 
>  
> 
> "When you were gone did you find what you were looking for, your redemption?"
> 
> Widow asks.
> 
> "I returned because when I looked all that I found was nothingness, where silence fettered my sick and twisted thing I call a soul."
> 
> Hanzo replies.
> 
>  
> 
> .......................................
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> As a widow main f### hanzo LMAO


End file.
